


The Small Things

by Silential



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Praise Kink, bottom Techie, clan techie - Freeform, mentions of rimming, slight cuckholding fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 06:48:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7256731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silential/pseuds/Silential
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I was half inside a console, hidden behind a comm bank from the door. I heard it open and a pair of boots came inside.”</p><p>While it may have been a little odd to talk about work while he was buried inside him, if it made Techie happy, it made Matt happy. Honestly he was elated Techie wanted to open up and share this with him at all. "Who was it?”</p><p>“Lord Ren.”</p><p>“<em>Oh.</em>” Stars above, this wasn’t for Techie, this was for <em>him</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Small Things

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me at [somethingstately](http://somethingstately.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!

Matt blinks in the dim light. Blinks, as if it might call the pale lines of his lover into sharper focus. He can make out the big picture in the soft illumination cast off by a glorified torch, clicked on and facing the wall so the concentric circles of its reflection create what was Matt’s best attempt at _mood lighting_. What little reaches the bed gently kisses a mouth already reddened by his, full lips parted, eyes tightly closed.

Matt wishes he could see the way Techie’s eyelashes would flutter with each crook of his finger. Translucent, almost blending in with the lingering splotches still ringing his eyes. When they kissed earlier, clothes still on and tangled in each other on the bed, Matt had found it difficult to look away. It wasn’t worth missing the view, blurred as it was.

But Techie prefers the lights off.

The lone torch, pointed away - this was the compromise, and more for Matt’s ability to navigate, if nothing else.  While Matt knew his quarters, tiny and barren except for the propaganda posters, well enough by now to manage, he wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity.

Not everyone was capable of seeing in the dark.  He let Techie keep the advantage.  

The bed shifts underneath his knees, bowing under their bodies. A gravity well in a binary system, a _barycenter_ , his brain supplies. He leans into it, knees pressed tightly together to fit in the span of Techie’s, bent and rising on either side. His thighs are slender, but the flesh yields easily when Matt gives into the temptation to squeeze one. Shifts spent manning a station or bent over a bench littered with electronic parts have done little to build muscle from the softness. Still, Matt likes this, the give of Techie’s thighs, the slight curve of his belly, a contrast to the planes and sharpened lines of his own body. Matt had never been good with words, but if he was, he’d have come up with something poetic.  

He’d tried writing a love letter once. Words had failed him and it had been more than a little rambling, but the tears pricking the corner of Techie’s eye, the one that still could produce them anyway, had made the soul-wrenching effort worth it.

As it is, his shoulders almost don’t fit, the broad wall of him almost too much. Still he squeezes in as close as he can, fingers slick, slippery against the ring of flesh that sucks at their tips when he draws almost all the way out.

He’s lucky, he knows, that Techie lets him touch him like this. That he trusts him enough to lie back, exposed – it’s enough to have his heart seizing sometimes.

He pushes back in, stretching his three fingers slightly wider. Movement in the dark – Techie’s hand coming to rest against his mouth, knuckles pressed to his lips. He muffles the low moan. It goes right to Matt’s cock, as much the sound as the stopping of it, bobbing between his thighs.  He hasn’t touched himself. He never does, not when Techie’s pants and shifts of his hips, pushing back onto his fingers ever so slightly, might have him spilling onto those soft thighs.

Matt’s almost forgotten how to speak, attention transfixed by the shadows in the divets of Techie’s slim hips, the wet heat under his fingertips. The cock rising from the course thatch of hair; he wonders if Techie was leaking yet, strained in the dim light to see. He has to wet his lips, force out the rusted words. “How does this feel?”

“Good. Very good.” Techie’s voice rises slightly at the end, not so much a question as his peculiar speech pattern. His breath comes loud, seemingly amplified to Matt’s ears by the hindrance of his sight.

Still, Matt asks, “You sure?” He scissors again, crooks his fingers upward. Light pressure.

A whine leaves his lips, and breaks off, swallowed back. Matt wishes he wouldn’t hold it in; the doors were thick, and if they weren’t thick enough, Matt’s glare could have a man shutting up faster than a blaster shot. Techie nods, a vague motion in the not-quite dark. “I’m ready.”

Matt doesn’t respond. With one last caress, a gasp his reward, he withdraws his fingers. He wipes them on his thigh, most of it still remaining in the cracks between them, and crawls to the side. Techie doesn’t move at first, a hand creeping down his stomach to take hold of his cock. The stroke is quick, a second one stolen too. 

Matt would touch him, if Techie let him; he’d do more than touch. Still, he reminds himself he’s lucky he gets to prepare him at all. And between the two options, it is certainly the more intimate, his careful ministrations bringing him pleasure, training him to take cock.

The seconds tick by, but Matt is in no rush.  

When he’s comfortable, Techie releases his cock and pushes onto his elbows, rolling gracelessly onto his belly as his hair falls to curtain his face. The reflected light is the same pale blue as the walls, and it dulls the lurid red into grey, washes out his skin. He pushes upwards, up and back, to his knees. His head turns slightly, the glow of the torch reflected in the wide, unblinking pupils that dance just shy of meeting his own. Matt is transfixed by them, a grin tugging at the corner of his wide mouth.

They looked eerie, a blue hypergiant like the one he’d once seen in the Outer Rim in each iris. They looked perfect.

Techie’s tongue wets his lips, or at least Matt thinks it does, imagines the teasing swipe. His breath is still a little uneven, it shakes his question. “Well?”

Techie hated being stared at. Remembering himself, Matt tears his gaze away, shifting awkwardly from where he knelt to take Techie’s former position on the mattress. He keeps his hands firmly glued to the bed, palms down. Legs straight and flat, his cock dips over his lower stomach, and Matt doesn't need to see Techie’s eyes to know that’s what attracts his attention.

Pushing to his knees, he swings a leg over Matt’s hips, towering over him like the officers that passed him at work in the corridors, crouching and elbow-deep in wires. Like Lord Ren sometimes did.

Matt swallows thickly, a soft groan on its heels as Techie grabs his cock, lines them up. His head pushes at Techie’s entrance, stretched and still dripping. Techie flexes enough to sink down a fraction of an inch, teasing himself open further, before straightening, bouncing lightly on his dick and taking him slightly deeper on each downward stroke. Down and up, each tugging at the pace of his breath, his heart. It was torture, sweet, languorous torture.

Techie only ever rode him.

He controlled the pace, the depth, and each time he’d taken him like this, incremental little movements as if to remind himself he could. The one time Matt had unthinkingly grabbed his hips he’d stilled and Matt had released him as if he’d been burned, hands flying to link behind his neck. He’d stuttered to life a moment after, but his eyes were open, no longer closed tightly in ecstasy.

Matt kept his hands on the bed or on himself now. Still, it was hardly a problem. He liked to flick his own nipples, squeezing them almost to the point of pain – and Techie liked to watch, gaze hungrily following the trail of his fingertips across his chest.

_You like watching me?_

_Yeah._

_Only this?_

_No. When you... stroke yourself too._

Techie finally takes him completely, curve of his ass coming to rest against Matt’s hips. He lets out a low shaky breath, seizing at the way Techie squeezes, flutters around him.

“You look fantastic like this. Taking my cock as deep as you can.”

It isn’t a stretch to imagine the flush creeping up Techie’s neck, suggested in the short hitch of his breath. “If you were any bigger, I wouldn’t be able to.”

“Oh you would. We’d just need to spend more time with you on my fingers,” he grins, lasciviously he hopes but it’s probably more goofy than anything, “stretching you open, getting you good and ready. And I could use my mouth, my tongue all around your hole –”

He cuts off, and not for the first time, Matt wishes he could see him more fully. He squints, blinks – if he focuses, he can make out the long lines of his arms, one hand already encircling his dick, lazily stroking, the other held across the pooch of his stomach. His thighs press against Matt’s hips, muscles shifting as he lifts himself up, sliding easily up Matt’s length until he’s in danger of slipping out.

He lowers himself slowly, completely. It draws a hushed moan.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’d like that?” He can’t help the question, burns for the answer.

Slick spread, fully opened, Techie begins to ride him in earnest, pace picking up as his thighs work. He’s silent for a moment, but the reply comes at last, high and tight. “Yeah. I think I’d like your mouth, and,” he trips over the words, regains his footing, “your tongue. On my hole.”

He can fucking hear the blush now for sure.

Matt’s breath comes faster, and he scrabbles at the sheet stretched tight over the mattress. An idea enters his head and he brings his fingers, still slick, to his mouth, pushing them between his lips to his second knuckle. His tongue curls over them, heat curling in his belly. He wants Techie watching him, thinking about what his tongue and his lips could do. Hollowing around his cock, lapping at his ass, sucking and teasing until he painted Matt’s lips white.

Matt can’t see him, but he can hear the low moan and he _knows_.

He pulls his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop. They close around one of his nipples instead.

Techie speeds up, the air thick with sweat and slick. His hand pumps at his own cock, half-hidden in the darkness. Matt weakly rocks his hips as much as he dares, hand braced against the bed.

He’s getting close, his balls tightening as heat starts to bloom in his gut.

“I was working on Level 39 the other day,” Techie says suddenly.

Voice tight, Matt can only reply, “Okay?”

Techie continues to move, his thighs must be burning by now.  “I was half inside a console, hidden behind a comm bank from the door. I heard it open and a pair of boots came inside.”

Well, Matt thinks, this is new.

While it may have been a little weird to talk about work while he was buried inside him, if it made Techie happy, it made Matt happy. If electronics and ‘troopers were what did it for him, Matt would summon every ounce of knowledge he could on the subject. Honestly he was elated Techie wanted to open up and share this with him at all; Matt hadn’t made much progress coaxing Techie’s deeper desires into the open yet. But he had to have some – didn’t everyone?

“Was it a ‘trooper?”

“No. Too heavy to be an officer and too uneven to be a ‘trooper.”

Matt’s heart speeds up almost subconsciously. He cants his hips, tilting just so in a way he knows Techie loves. “Who was it then?”

“Lord Ren.”

“ _Oh_.” Stars above, this wasn’t for Techie, this was for _him_.

“Without his mask.”

His eyes slam shut, a gasp wrenched from his throat. He can’t even pretend the thought doesn’t do things to him. “You _saw him?”_

“He was talking to himself.  So I peeked over the comm bank and he was staring right back at me.”

Matt can barely think, the question stuttered out before he can stop it, “What did he look like?”

“Large dark eyes, wide nose. Strong jaw, a little crooked. Wavy hair you’d love to sink your hands into. He looked like one of the angels the deep space pilots talk about.”

Matt can feel his orgasm building, the bow drawing tight behind his navel. “Would you have kissed him? Would you let him fuck you, like I fuck you?”

“ _Yes_. He was gorgeous.”

For a moment, he can see it in his mind’s eye. The black robe, the flash of stringy red hair, pale arms trembling to keep himself up as Lord Ren takes Techie over a console. Matt would have prepped him ahead of time, hands spreading his cheeks for his tongue. He'd have taken four fingers, have needed four fingers to fill him up. Techie's mouth is slack, and the cock in him big, bigger than Matt, thicker too, stretching him wide, and –

The bow releases and he spills with a groan, almost blinded by the searing rush of plasma that courses through him. Distantly, he feels the warm splash of come on his stomach that means Techie has finished too, the broken moan as he squeezes, milks Matt’s cock for everything he has.

The moment ends and he lies there panting, Techie slumped over his chest.

They breathe together.

When his brain has caught up, and his mouth works again, he asks, “Then what happened?”

“Oh. He stomped back out, I guess. Probably destroyed a hallway.” Techie’s cock, spent and softening, wilts as he lets Matt slip out of him.

“You guess?”

Techie tucks himself into Matt’s side, uncaring of the mess. It never seemed to bother him, even if the drying come made Matt's skin itch. He lays his head on Matt’s collarbone, form so slight beneath Matt’s hand where it comes up to stroke across his back. “I don’t know, I made it up.”

Matt snorts out a laugh, but a part of him, inane and surprised, is slightly disappointed. It had felt special, almost, having this tiny piece of Lord Ren. But that part is quickly swallowed up, engulfed by the tremoring of his heart over the sweetness of the gesture. While his chances of ever finding himself in Lord Ren’s bed could not be quantified by any computer this side of the Galaxy, he was still grateful that Techie didn’t judge him for it. Jealousy wasn’t in his nature.

Techie’s reply creaks to life after a moment, words low and a little incredulous. “Didn’t you realize I was just describing you?”

“Oh.” Matt can’t decide if coming to his own description made him a narcissist or not; he supposes it probably did. Odd, since he’d never considered himself handsome. “Now that you mention it.”

He cranes his neck to place a kiss on Techie’s hair, lips just brushing. Sweat cooled at Techie's hairline. “Thank you. You know you don't have to do this for me though, right?”

Matt doesn’t have to imagine the light dusting of eyelashes against his skin as Techie closes his eyes. He feels his slow nod. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me at [somethingstately](http://somethingstately.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!


End file.
